Tagged: news

I’ve Completed My Investigation Into What The Heck Is Going On with Russia and Ukraine

I’ve completed my investigation into what the heck is going on with Russia and Ukraine.

But before we get to the results, I want to share what was fun about the investigation.

Two things.

First, I learned or re-learned that I like history more than advice.

The first major reading I did was of a series of three essays and the first essay was history, whereas the third was advice for stability etc. History of the region? Exciting and interesting. Compelling too. I never have known much about Russia. And I had totally forgot, if I ever knew, that Ukraine is on the west side. Reading the history brought back memories of when I looked on a map for Moscow after reading Tolstoy’s War and Peace. He had made the big point that Napoleon turned around when he got to Moscow. Boy was I disappointed to see how near Europe Moscow really is. Napoleon really did peter out.

Anyhow, similar thing this time. Ukraine was in a totally different spot than I had pictured. Knowing the geography actually helps the headlines make sense.

Secondly, I randomly had extra time to read with A- the other night and was feeling like one hour of Swiss Family Robinson would be a bit much, so we switched to the Book of Knowledge Children’s Encyclopedia thirty minutes in, specifically to Volume 1’s first sections on World History. There, in an early paragraph, we came across this sentence, “While the whole of Russian history shows the effort of a landlocked people to reach the shores of the seas, which were for thousands of years the only really convenient highways of trade and communication.”

What fun! Reading really does invigorate the soul. “…the effort of a landlocked people to reach the shores of the seas…”

So, now, here’s the result of my investigation: Russia wants to get to the Black Sea in a bigger way. On the other side, the West believes the people of Ukraine should get to rule themselves by virtue of their being human beings.

Regarding Russia’s desire, that Ukraine was or was not previously a part of Russia or the USSR or whatnot is besides the point. Put differently, to be faithful to reality we must acknowledge that Russia wants something tangible, something that all parties can agree is or is not real. Either Russia has ports in the Black Sea or not. Either Russia’s boundaries extend to the Black Sea in Ukraine’s place or not.

Also, we need to say Russia isn’t crazy for the wanting-the-Black-Sea bit. But Russia is maintaining an un-Western, and specifically un-American, belief when it brings force to Ukraine instead of a soapbox or a stump.

Conversely, the West, specifically America, isn’t wrong for choosing to oppose Russia’s action, but if America cannot get Russia to engage us on our terms, then everyone is literally talking past each other. And if this is the case, it truly is a fight.

For all I care, the country Russia can have access to the ports it wants. But if this desire is not the result of representative votes of its people, then we’re really not talking about Russia, but about some one leader—Putin.

Next, I want to know, “Is there some reason for the West instigating the Ukraine-join-NATO stuff right now?” I don’t know. But it surely is a move that I’m convinced that everyone who is read-in would have known would result in being interpreted as provoking Russia/Putin.

The question, then, is what do we, the collective West, believe? Is conventional war truly a thing of the past? Or will there be conventional war once again?

I think conventional war is a thing of the past. So my money is on the West easing up whatever pressure it has recently placed on the idea of NATO and Ukraine marrying. And this then would result in Russia/Putin backing down.

Lastly, President Biden has a speech impediment. Never, never give that man a line which sounds powerful only if delivered well.

I mean, I ask you, dear reader, “Who in the LORD’s name does Putin?”

Response to Castro’s “Americans Don’t Know Who Latinos Are” New Yorker Podcast

Mr. Castro was interviewed on the “New Yorker” podcast the other day. This title was very provocative to me, so I gave it a listen as I exercised. It’s only 20min long.

The main charge he makes to prove his thesis is, “Can you name three latinos who had had a significant impact in American history?” He explains that he asked this to a very high placed school administrator.

The problem with the exchange, as described in the interview, is that Castro doesn’t account for the current political climate as he reveals that the administrator sheepishly admitted that he couldn’t.

Conversation 101: Whoever is asking the question has the power. Read your Bible if you don’t believe me. If you are in an important conversation and asked a question, answer with a question. If it’s a good question, the momentum will shift in your favor.

The administrator, by answering the question, already loses. Instead, he need have—and this can be done charismatically if need be—only flipped the question on Castro and asked, “Can you?” And then when Mr. Castro posits the name, the administrator (or you or me) interrupts as he takes notes slowly, to say, “Excuse me, but could you go slower. What did he do? Uh-huh. Got it. Yeah. Funny how I never heard of him. Must’ve been some genius.”

On this specific topic, the truth is—and all Americans know this deep down—Latinos don’t know who Americans are. And most Latinos probably never will.

Americans do not care about skin color. Americans do not care about ancestry. Americans do not care about how much hardship you overcame. Americans do not care about your current struggles. Americans do not care about your hopes and dreams. Americans do not care about Hollywood representation. Americans do not care about Latinos. Americans do not care about Blacks. Americans do not care about Whites.

Americans are not superficial. Americans are not trendy, and they are not trending. Americans cannot be cancelled. Americans cannot give up. Americans do not have DNA. Americans do not have an accent, they do not have a dialect.

Americans do not have mothers. Americans do not have fathers. Humans cannot create an American anymore than we can create purple mountain majesty.

Americans don’t know who Latinos are? Wrong, Sir. Wrong.

You want me to name three Latinos who had a significant impact on America? While I’m thinking, can you name three Americans who you don’t consider as your personal heroes?

The only people who have a significant impact on America are Americans. Next question.

Imitation Is The Sincerest Form Of Flattery

Did Mayor Pete and Chasten both contract COVID-19? Does anyone know?

I’m only asking because I just saw a pic of them in the hospital. They didn’t look sick, but it’s possible they only have it mildly.

Then again, they were holding babies and I think it is illegal for people with COVID-19 to hold babies.

Hmm. Must be some other reason for their visit. Anyone know?

Week In Review—Shotgun Style

My daughter’s school district sent out the anonymous “don’t be ashamed” but “your child has to go into quarantine” email yesterday. This is the second time. Education should erase fear, not promote it. Public Schools must be abolished.

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I have officially passed the tipping point. I do not think earthly happiness can be achieved without owning a Rodecaster Pro podcast production studio.

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I usually feel pretty smart. Okay, I usually feel very smart. But these days I think I feel how geniuses must feel. You see my oldest daughter is 3/4 round-eye, the other 1/4 being Asian. And my youngest daughter is 1/2 DFPWHTSSTACSO (Descended From People Who Have The Same Skin Tone As Colonial Slave Owners) and the other 1/2 Habesha or never conquered or—to your eyes—black (which is the same). So I think I’m one of the good guys—just like my ancestors used to be.

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As far as Megan Rapinoe, I only want to share what a stripper told me one night as we critically, but casually, surveyed the other Independent Professional Entertainers on the floor. (Don’t ask me. Something to do with taxes.) She said, “The hair color we were born with adorns our body as beautifully as possible. It matches our face and skin and complexion perfectly.”

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Lastly, some hope. I overheard an elderly patient on one of my flights this week lament upon hearing that she still had to put on a mask when we landed at the gaining hospital. “But I’ve had both of my vaccinations,” she declared irritated. In this case, like most, the customer is always right. As the hospitals return to normalcy, the public will too. And hopefully we’ve learned to never again trust health experts while we have our health. Or Democrats.

Point-By-Point Rebuttal to Today’s Noonan

She opens: “How do we deal with all that has happened?”

Me: This is hype. Nothing earth-shattering has happened.

She says: “This was an attack on democracy itself.”

Me: I can see that you mean to call attention to how the timing was about the certification ceremony, but everyone knows it’s ceremonial. So no, it wasn’t an attack on democracy itself. It was an attack on a superficial ceremony. In the end, I don’t change my life because criminals engage in criminal activity. More hype.

She, demonstrating her own certifiable-ness, says: “This was a sin against history.”

Me: Hype. Your readership doesn’t even believe in sin. That’s only for Mexican immigrants, African immigrants, and conservatives—in other words, those who are generally thought to be dreamers.

Her: “On the rioters: Find them, drag them out of their basements, and bring them to justice.”

Me: I think that’s a Freudian slip. “Drag them out of their basements?” The only president-elect whose been in his basement all year is Biden. Oops. I meant, the only person. Person.

Her: “Throw the book at them.”

Me: You’re old.

Her: “Now to the devil and his apprentices.”

Me: The trouble with this implication is the sheer volume of voters who chose the devil. It’s not just a data point. Real people like the devil. The solution can’t disregard this fact. Your does, so your suggestion cannot be right.

Her: “As for the chief instigator, the president of the United States, he should be removed from office by the 25th Amendment or impeachment, whichever is faster. This, with only a week and a half to go, would be a most extraordinary action, but this has been an extraordinary time. Mike Pence is a normal American political figure; he will not have to mount a new government; he appears to be sane; he will in this brief, strange interlude do fine.”

Me: It’s not an extraordinary time. It’s Friday. Hype.

Her: “Removing him would go some distance to restoring our reputation, reinforcing our standards, and clarifying constitutional boundaries for future presidents who might need it.”

Me: The Left, who just won, and then won again, does not like our reputation, has double standards, and hates the constitution. His removal was enacted by people who don’t like our reputation, have double standards, and hate the constitution.

Her: “True conservatives tend to have a particular understanding of the fragility of things. They understand that every human institution is, in its way, built on sand. It’s all so frail. They see how thin the veil is between civilization and chaos, and understand that we have to go through every day, each in our way, trying to make the veil thicker.”

Me: My true-conservative fingers say, without hype, “Umm, okay. I see the difference and we’re definitely in the chaos. The rioters attacked a symbolic ceremony. Rebuking them with a symbolic 10 day early public flogging would only feed the delusion that our civilization’s adding flour. (Thickening agent.)

Last one.

Her: “I have resisted Nazi comparisons for five years, for the most part easily. But that is like what is happening here, the same kind of spirit, as the president departs, as he angrily channel-surfs in his bunker.”

Me: You resisted for five years? And then when all that is broken is some glass, now you cave? History will never compare Trump to Hitler. In the beginning, it appeared—compared to traditional presidents—that Trump had some quirks that could start down the wrong path. But after five years any of us have seen enough to espouse informed pronouncements. Here’s mine. He was nothing—nothing—like Hitler. He was like Trump.

Closing thought: Peggy, dear, you’re wrong because of your premise. No one will be reading history in the future—no one of consequence at least. Your character, not Trump, took the hit with this one. You can’t cover your ass with one op-ed piece—not because the piece wasn’t clearly breaking ties, but because the piece was only written for a future audience who will never exist.

Now we wait to see who’s right. If they remove Trump, your finger is on the pulse. And I have a newfound respect for your influence. If they don’t, my finger is on the pulse. Good luck.

More Midwestern Truth About Politics

As I consider the upcoming change of leadership in our nation, I can’t help but see irony.

Folks want to believe Biden is so different from Trump. Especially, they say, in the fact that Biden doesn’t lie all day long. But from a God’s eye perspective, Biden does lie all day long. Whether due to his stutter, or some other ailment as simple as too-much-on-the-brain, Biden misspeaks endlessly. If we actually took his words at face value, we’d find him unintelligible. We certainly couldn’t trust him with political office.

But there’s an affability in Biden that forces even his opponents to admit, “Yes, Yes. Of course he didn’t mean what he said.” And that’s precisely what Trump fans have said for four years. “He doesn’t mean what he said.”

So we’re in a tight spot. You hate Trump because he lies. And Biden is such a poor public speaker that I have to cut through all his mistakes with a machete forged out of trust that his tongue is in no way connected to his head or his heart.

I miss strong speech. I miss meaning. I miss speaking which moved me. To be honest, I never heard such speaking. But I’ve read it. I have to believe we can do it again.

Unlived, Unlit, and Unstoppable

In the future, the historians will earn their daily bread by revealing what is common knowledge to those of us who have endured to this point in America’s second civil war. That is, the historians will take up—singularly—as the topic of their magnum opuses the fact that the war (itself not an immoral or criminal part of life on earth) began with wanton, unchecked criminality.

Once it became clear that the police were not going to behave according to their sworn oaths, Americans in whose veins pumped blood which was hot with rage did not line up according to some contemporary “Blue and Grey” as the Proud Boys and Antifa gangs had hoped.

In the beginning there wasn’t strategy; there weren’t plans. In the place of those things, and others, which always took much time to materialize (and only ever did at the sounding of a long suppressed cry for leadership) the baser instincts of society were unleashed. This meant, naturally, that what we now call the “war” first began as all violent crime begins—passionately. And for any crime to receive this noble description, it can only relate one shameful fact: the violence occurred among family and friends.

People, generally men, who had long felt wronged and unheard by the “man” saw an opportunity to take matters into their own hands. One can almost empathize with these previously caged animals. “Fuck it,” they said. “If there’s no chance of punishment this side of the dirt, I’ll take my chances with whatever comes on the other side.” God Will Judge became the mantra.

Who among us hasn’t heard stories of the bloody red, depressingly black, and intensely personal mayhem that occurred in the year before formal armies were announced and maps redrawn? Tell me I’m wrong. We felt comfortable among strangers—enough even to dull our senses with the poison of the month. But no one would have more than one beer with family for fear of missing the cues proffered that home-cooked meals with just arrived, uninvited distant relatives would end in bloodshed. To live in fear of your own kin? That’s a crime against heaven. And heaven has answered, surely.

Culturally speaking, this played out across the country differently. The blacks, hispanics, Chinese, mooslums, and others—by virtue of living so communally as it was—were on edge all the time (which was not too different from their prior felt experience). The whites? Well, we lived out another chapter of the story. The interstates were filled with murderous travelers. To keep up with the new reality, we put a new entry into the Merriam-Webster app entry of “road rage”. And when people stopped for what would have become road rage crimes in the recent past, this time they didn’t fight or shoot each other. Rather, they shared the stories which, like their vehicles, carried them forward by the latent power of unexploded remains of ancient demons. But most of the time no one stopped. Tailgating still caused anger, but no one stopped driving. They allowed the reflection of the bumper close behind to crystallize their vision of the future close ahead.

Here’s the point. Here’s the part that no historian will ever think to write about or investigate because a negative just can’t be proven—so they say. But I don’t need logic to tell you what I saw. The dead, the victims of these crimes of passion? They never saw it coming.

Let’s Be Honest

Can we be honest with each other, you and me? Let’s be honest. This whole “Say Her Name” challenge chant that accompanies the now nightly tide of stupidity is an indefensible, ignorant, and superstitious holdover from Old Testament days and Old Testament locations.

I get it. The “whites” who are marching alongside the “blacks” are trying to be empathetic and sympathetic (and many other multi-syllabic words which these self-same “blacks” still aren’t certain as to whether they mean friend or foe). And in their skin-deep efforts, the “whites” are willing to go with the flow. In the meantime, the “whites”, who also like to wrap the utterance of “RBG” in a knowing look (Do you honestly believe you knew her? I know that you haven’t read one, not one, of her opinions. Stop the nonsense.)—as I was saying—the “whites” have tragically left their thinking caps at home when they pack their camelbacks for the day trip downtown. But if they knew what the “blacks” chanting “Say Her Name!” really meant to accomplish—some kind of wishful, but literal, deification of the dead #BreeWay—I have to believe that these “whites” would pack it up and head home.

Despite the “blacks’” most passionate and honest desire to take us back to the days when crossing the Jordan meant something, since the Resurrection, the utterance of only one name actually requires decision, actually might have consequence, and that name, as you know, is Jesus. And even here most people, Christians included, don’t really believe the good Lord is going to hold their silence against them at the Pearly Gates.

Anecdotally, I’m told that in Ethiopia if a person exclaims, “Jesus!” after dropping a dish, stubbing their toe, or hearing a loud noise, then a non-believer will often playfully retort, “Are you Pente?” They, of course, mean “of the pentecostal denomination” which is renowned for placing great value on all things uttered. I mention that here because that should get you close to understanding what the “blacks” you’re marching alongside, and posting yard signs in support of, really mean.

On the whole, in this superficially diverse movement, the “blacks” are foolish for thinking this is finally “their” moment—foolish especially for believing the “whites” who literally have nothing better to do with their time really care. And the “whites” are foolish for dropping the great legacy of skepticism and regressing to the point of ancestor worship. To be clear: Civilized man doesn’t do ancestor worship anymore. There is power in the name of Jesus (or there might be), but that’s it. No amount of chanting any other audible elixir will ever change that. So let’s be honest. You know this. Or you used to. Please remember it.

Review of Bob Woodward and Friends’ Forgettable Effort

I don’t remember who taught me to do this, maybe it’s just the way my mind works. But if I hear that, for example, some otherwise successful and prepared leader lost a battle because he underestimated his enemy, I try to live under the mindset of the other extreme. In this case, I live always overestimate my enemy. (Enemy is a bit harsh here, but it’s quick.)

What’s on my mind, today, is that the pundits won’t stop. It’s been four years of Trump and they won’t stop. They somehow believe that today is the day I’ll rise up with them in indignation that Trump lied. (“Up-played.” It’s brilliant.) But until recently I couldn’t answer the question, “Why do the pundits press on? What drives them?”

It cannot be love of country. They cannot be driven by their love of the USA because that’s what drives me. That’s what drives Trump. If I felt they loved America, then I wouldn’t care what they said, anymore than I care what Trump says. But I do care about what they say, rather I do struggle to understand how and why they continue to point out the obvious as if it isn’t obvious. And so something else must be driving them.

At first, I wanted to treat the pundits like children. Like children, I thought, the pundits just didn’t like the man. But then I remembered that underestimating my opponent can lead to disaster, so I have given up that line of thinking.

What, then, would the wisest, most educated and well-read humans who ever walked the earth (here’s the intentional overestimate) be so ate up with that they’d persevere day in and day out against Trump? That became my question.

The answer: Vanity.

If I was wise, well-read (let’s not forget camera ready and funny), and lived in the United States of America right now, I’d hate that no one noticed me. I’d be super pissed that all my brainpower was not translating to real power. Sure, I may live in opulent comfort, but I would know that if I had been alive only a few generations ago, then I would have found that my abilities would have placed real power within my grasp. I’m talking Trump-like power. I would know that I could have very likely been KING OF THE WORLD!! (Flat or not.)

But, as it stands, we all live today. Right now. And no one, not-a-me, and not-a-you, (and not the pundits—from either side) are going to live on in history. President Donald J. Trump will, though. He, in all his buffoonery and apparent lies and orange hair and every other flaw the wise and well-read (perhaps even physically fit) pundits point out unrelentingly, will live on.

Do I care that Trump lives on and I do not? Nope. But if I was as wise and well-read as my (overestimated) opponents must be, then I have to think I’d resent that despite all my education and training and ambitions, that I, daily, was proving to be impotent and forgettable.

This perspective, achieved by overestimating my opponent, allows little ol’ me to admit that this would be a hard truth to face. I could even admit that this hard truth might just drive me into an incessant, blind rage.